


Your Touch Burns (But It Burns So Good)

by speakingofalice



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Burns, Disease, Hurt!Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, If Jim would just do as Bones says he wouldnt be in this mess, M/M, Sickness, mckirk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakingofalice/pseuds/speakingofalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can’t you hear me screaming?"</p><p>Based off the prompt, "Jim gets sick..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Touch Burns (But It Burns So Good)

Jim shivers as he rolls over in his bed. He crosses his arms grabbing at his blanket sleepily to encase his shaking body. He nuzzles deeper into his pillow snorting through his stuffy nose and trying to swallow past his swollen throat. He lays for only a moment before his body starts to ache from the position and he groans admitting defeat but stays still for a few minutes longer out of spite. Finally he sighs and rolls back over to his other side bringing his knees to his chest trying to preserve body heat, he was so cold.

His room was dark save for the blinks of various PADDs with notification alerts, the tricorder Bones left sitting beside his night stand and his computer terminal that had an annoying swiveling screensaver that Jim had yet to change. Usually the small lights didn’t bother him but this morning he almost physically felt every blink of green and red that cut through the darkness hurting his closed eyes. He grumbles something that even he couldn’t understand and tugs his blankets up one more time encompassing his head as he hides under them. Under the blankets he could feel the warmth of his breath heat the small space and it was nice until he used up his oxygen supply. When the air got too thick to breathe and he had to surge back upwards for breath.

With a sigh of utter defeat, Jim sits up in bed letting the blankets pool in his lap staring down at them like they’d personally betrayed him. Running a hand through his messy hair and sniffing hard to unclog his nose he looks over at the clock. It read just past five thirty in the morning.

“Great,” Jim croaks noticing his voice sounds like he’d swallowed broken glass. He felt the skin on his neck taking a deep breath and wincing as he did so. With a groan he pulls himself up from his bed and padds towards his shared bathroom. He could faintly smell Spock’s incense coming from his room as he locks both doors.

He strips down shivering as he steps into the shower stall and turned on the water as hot as it would go hoping the heat and steam would mend his aching bones and unstuff his clogged sinuses. Silently he thanked himself for stocking up his water credits for so long.

The hot water was borderline searing his skin as he stood under the spray and closed his eyes groaning once more. He thought absently about going to sickbay to see Bones but… No. He didn’t need sickbay or hypos or Bones’ worried face appearing in the medical ward as he runs in disheveled from being woken up. Jim bet money the doctor had threatened bodily harm to his nurses and staffers if Jim ever came into MedBay and he wasn’t notified immediately. He didn’t want that. He didn’t need that. He just had a cold, as simple as it was barbaric and easily ignored. He didn’t need to bother his friend and he certainly didn’t need a hypo.

Doubt settled in the pit of Jim’s stomach but he ignored it scrubbing soap into his hair and calling it indigestion. He was fine.

Jim stays in the shower until the water was shut off and he cursed. Used up all his stashed water credits, apparently. He steps out feeling a bit better – like he’d only been run over by a  _Constitution_ class starship and not a  _Dreadnought_. Toweling off and going back into his quarters, Jim called the lights on dimly, got dressed and sat at his desk. He had three hours until Alpha shift, he couldn’t sleep and he felt like shit so he called up an unfinished report and got to work.

* * *

 

By the time of shift change Jim was feeling a degree or two better. He’d managed to sail through three reports and fall back asleep at his desk for a few minutes before his alarm sounded and he jumped to his feet in surprise. He ran a washcloth under warm water and placed it over his eyes to decrease the puffiness then threw the cloth away, donned his gold shirt and was out the door with a sniffle and only a slight stumbled in his walk. He must have had his room lights dimmed more than he’d thought for the bright hallways made him wince and angle his head down. At the front of his head he felt an ache start to bloom but he ignored it compartmentalizing the pain for later.

The bridge was particularly glaringly bright as Jim walked in nodding to certain members of the crew and barley acknowledging Chekov as he called, “Captain on za bridge!” He’d told the ensign he didn’t need to announce his presence  _every time_ he stepped foot into his command center. It didn’t matter, apparently, what Jim wanted however because the ensign still called and Jim still internally rolled his eyes. At least his crew had stopped pausing and standing to the side with a salute when he walked through the halls. It took him making a ship wide announcement but all the same they stopped he was thankful for it.

“Report, Mr. Spock,” Jim ordered as he took his seat. A chill crept up his back though his face felt a hot. When Spock didn’t answer right away Jim swiveled his chair to look at him. “Spock?”

“Is everything alright, Captain?” The Vulcan eyed him suspiciously and Jim had to bite back not only his annoyance but also a hearty eye roll.

“Peachy,” he deadpanned. “If you please, Commander.” He used his authoritative voice but it sounded meek even to his own ears. Damn his dry, scratchy throat. Spock sat up minutely straighter in his seat, his jaw clenched only a bit but enough for Jim’s finite Spock senses to tingle.

“We are approximately five point one three days from Starfleet outpost seven. Last night, Mister Scott reported in as having fixed a leak in the fifth fuel cell cartridge. Reports say it was not substantial and caused minimal damage. However, because of the leakage we moved down from warp four to warp three adding two days onto our schedule…” Spock continued speaking but Jim had to look away, down at his PADD. The lights blazing above the Vulcan’s head were too much for his increasingly pounding headache. “Are you feeling unwell, Captain? Perhaps a trip to sickbay would prove–”

"No Spock, I’m fine.” Jim interrupted forcing a smile he didn’t feel. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Thank you.” Jim could see Spock stiffen in his periphery. Looking around, he also noticed the bridge crew had grown silent during their exchange as poorly hidden looks of concern were directed his way. Jim cleared his throat turning his gaze to the PADD that demanded his attention in his hands.

A wave of nausea washed over Jim enough to force him to swallow the excess saliva that floods his mouth. The room starts to spin around him and he knows there’s something wrong when the walls morph into oblong shapes that contort his vision. His stomach twists and he places either hand on the sides of the Captain’s chair to hoist himself up forgetting about the device in his hand. It clatters to the ground. He needs to get up, he needs to go. If he’s going to be sick it will be in the confines of his own Ready Room and not on the bridge, damnit.

With a jolt, Jim hoists himself to his feet forcing his face to remain neutral even as the ship tilts under him. A strange feeling makes his hands go numb and the left side of his face start to tingle once he stands fully. Jim can feel the stares as he straightens his shirt feeling bile rise in his throat threateningly. 

“Sounds good, Mr. Spock,” is that his voice that sounds like gravel scraping together dryly? Jim places a numb hand on his tingling face closing his eyes for only a moment. He feels a hard pull for his eyes to roll to the back of his head so he tears them back open again. Ready Room. He just needs to get to his Ready Room. “K-keep the course and I’ll be in my… I’ll be…”

The morphing walls jump out at him the same time as the numbness in his hands extends to his shoulders and down to his feet. His knees buckle under him and he staggers only a second before falling. He’s frozen, he can’t move and he can’t feel his body as the ground rushes up to meet his head. But it never comes. A hot hand wraps around his head saving him from a cracked scull and suddenly Spock is by his side yelling orders to scurrying crewmen on a bridge that had erupted into chaos. Men and woman trained for battle unsure of what to do as their Captain collapses. The place where Spock touches him grows warmer and warmer, more than his Vulcan body temperature should allow.

“Alert…. McCoy… Can you hear me? -ptain?" 

Jim stares hard at Spock wanting his swirly face to stop moving or else he’s going to be sick but it doesn’t stop and he has just enough sense about him to move his head an inch or three to the side before the dinner he’d enjoyed last night makes a violent reappearance. Spock forces his head and body to the side as Jim begins to choke on his own vomit. Jim feels himself go slack, the lights get impossibly brighter and the sound of the door to the bridge swishing open overrides all his senses as a cursing doctor storms the bridge. In the two places his first officer has his hands Jim feels himself twitch as it starts to actually burn. He opens his mouth to tell the Vulcan to let go of him but no sound comes out. It’s as if his vocal cords have been paralyzed.

Bones falls to his knees beside Jim, tricorder already in hand and whirling. "What happened…”

“… collapsed… The captain… alerted…”

“Jim? -ear me? Jim?”

Jim tries to keep up with the conversation but he feels numbness start to grab him and threaten to drag him under.

 _Don’t touch me_ , he mentally begs again for Spock to take his hands away. They’re scorching now. Burning his skin to the bone. He knows his skin is on fire, can’t they see it? Can’t they smell the burnt flesh?

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out no matter how hard he yells. He’s screaming in his head but the way Bones takes his plaint hands to check for a pulse he obviously can’t hear him. Jim tries his hardest to jerk away as Bones touches his wrist and fire licks at his skin. In his mind, he has his head thrown back in a howl so loud it cancels out all other thoughts of terror and numbness.

_Can’t you hear me screaming?!_

“Doctor!” He hears Spock yell faintly, as if down a far tunnel. He feels himself being draped on the cold ground as Spock sits back taking his hands away from any exposed skin. “Let go, doctor. Let go, we are hurting him.”

“What?” Bones voice is like a cool glass of water as he rips his hand away and examines the skin on Jim’s wrist. Jim can see his hands as he moves his head minutely. What he sees makes him want to throw up again. Where fingers once touched now is actual burns. As if Bones’ hands were a brand to his skin. It’s red and blistered and angry and Jim can’t take it anymore. He feels the same blistering pain to his back and the side of his head where Spock caught him and it’s all too much.

“… on Jim. Hold on…”

It’s the last thing he hears before he feels himself falling. Absently, he wonders if this is what it would have felt like if he’d followed that corvette into the quarry.

* * *

 

The world is hazy and for how long it stays that way, Jim is uncertain. He thinks he opens his eyes a few times but he isn’t certain as faces wash in and out. He tries to talk but can’t hear his voice. He tries to move but can’t get his body to cooperate.

He thinks about death and dying and how people talk about it so flippantly. They say it’s just a part of life, it’s something that happens without anyone’s control. Death is the greatest equalizer, it is the final end and the most tragic stop. Death is the tall dark shadow with a billowing, swishing black cloth enshrouding a creature of bones that guides away souls either to be damned or blessed.

Jim wonders when he dies if he’ll be among the chosen or would he be among the screaming and pleading to be forgiven, breaking his nails to claw out of hell.

“You’re a good man, Jimmy,” he thinks he hears through the fog. The voice is warm. It cools the burning on his skin, like a fresh breeze over a peach field wafting the smells up and over rolling hills. It makes the darkness receded from all consuming to just bearable and Jim falls back into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

The next time Jim wakes he’s more coherent as he opens his eyes feeling how they’re crusty at the sides. It takes a moment but they eventually clear and he can see the familiar lights of sickbay, dimmed possibly from the late hour. He hears beeps and smells antiseptic. The atmosphere of a clean and sanitized MedBay.

 _Well shit_ , Jim sighs.  _Guess it wasn’t just a cold._

“Jesus, did you even read the missive I sent out to  _all_ members of the crew?”

Jim looks up at the bright lights of sickbay feeling nauseous and just a little bit stupid. He’s not even surprised to see his friend. Bones is sat next to him with his arms crossed and face in a pinched expression. Jim clears his throat licking his lips and croaks, “I skimmed.”

“Skimmed my ass,” Bones mumbled leaning forward to place a straw near Jim’s mouth. Jim lets the plastic around his lips and sucks groaning as cool liquid douses the desert in his mouth and down his throat. It’s only a second before Bones takes the cup away and stands up placing it to the side. “That memo advised the crew to come to MedBay to receive mandatory vaccinations for a highly reactive virus that we had reports had broken out on the last colony we visited. Everyone reported, even the hobgoblin. All eight hundred and thirty five out of eight hundred and thirty six. One’s missing. I’ll give you two guesses on who that is but you’ll only need one.”

Jim hadn’t felt so stupid in a long time. He’d seen the memo. “I-I was busy. I-”

“Do you even know how stupid it would be to die from something as fixable as an alien version of the common cold? Do you?”

“Bones-”

“No, don’t  _Bones_  me. You purposefully endanger yourself on away missions, you get into fights during shore leave and now you don’t even show up for routine fucking vaccinations so this shit doesn’t happen! Do you even understand how hard it is to love a guy that is just asking to die?!”

Jim flinches but not as hard as Leonard does as his mouth clicks shut audibly. It takes only half a second to dawn on Jim what the doctor had just said but when it does he swings his head around, his mouth partially open. “Do you… do you mean that?”

The doctor seemed to fight with himself for a moment before he took a deep breath and deflated. “I… I… yeah, I do.”

There was silence as the two looked at each other. Bones has his breath held by the way his chest doesn’t move and his back stiffens. Bones’ face turns red and he looks away when Jim says nothing. “Look, you’ve been through a lot. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. I understand, I do and I hope we can still be friends and-”

“I love you too,” Jim forces his voice to be strong, to not waver with nerves or fatigue.

It was true, he did love Bones. It hadn’t started the day the doctor had thrown up on him in that shuttle but overtime it had blossomed like a beautiful flower going from seed to full bloom. It was small things like hangover hypos and curtesy wake up’s when alarms weren’t set. And big things like deep discussions about both of their tragic fathers and Jim’s shitty childhood and Bones’ selfish ex-wife. It was a love that spanned years of dreadful boredom and heart pounding excitement. It was hurry up and wait. Wait then go fast. And it was something Jim was serious about. This wasn’t a fling or a fuck buddy. It was true. It was real.

“I don’t want to die, Bones.” Jim admits softly as they both stared at each other. “I just… I made a mistake. I can’t promise you that I’ll be safe all the time because if it’s a choice between me or my crew, me or you, I’m going to choose the latter. Every time.” He feels exhausted by the end of his little speech. Jim sags against the bedsheets as Bones comes closer.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t come to that.” Bones got as close as he could without actually touching Jim. “Shit, kid. I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Then do it.” He whispered.

“I can’t.” Bones places a light hand beside Jim’s head as it rested on the pillow. “I can’t touch you yet. You’ve been here for forty-two hours but the vaccine still needs another few to run its course. I don’t want to hurt you, darlin’.”

“Then just… stay. Sit here with me?”

Leonard sits down on the seat he’d probably sat in since Jim had come into the MedBay. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jim, looking at him with soft eyes as if he were something special. As if he were something important. Jim felt sleep pull at his eyelids and he closes them seeing Bones smiling down at him and thinking that this was right, this was the way it’s supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> This was taken from my tumblr, as are all from this series. Feel free to follow or check out my blog, I don't bite I promise. It is speakingofalice on tumblr. Thanks and have a good day fellow readers


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